Twister City, 1x10 A Star, A Star
by Kay Seda
Summary: The cop TV show AU thing returns! Christmas has come to Topeka and the citizens are celebrating...or not. The one thing everyone learns is that what's really important is family.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Twister City - 1x10 "A Star, A Star" (1/2)  
**Author:** Kay Seda  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** The members of the Topeka Police Department celebrate the holidays (in their own way).  
**Disclaimer:** Tin Man and the city of Topeka are not mine.  
**A/N:** Yes, I know it's June. And yes this is where I started going nuts with the "I'm writing a TV show!" aspect.

* * *

VOICE OVER (TUDOR): Previously, on "Twister City."

(SCENE: Rawlins' office.)

CAIN: We're still looking for a place to stay.

LEFEVRE: I've got room!

PRAEDLYN: He really does.

(Series of shots of Wyatt and Jeb moving into LeFevre's stately Victorian home, followed by a bunch of shots of them all coping with each other.)

(SCENE: Cain's car, driving LeFevre home.)

CAIN: You're going to have to grow up sooner or later, you can't treat life like it's-

LEFEVRE: Wyatt, you have no idea what I've been through.

(Shot of Cain looking over the crime scene photos from the Washburn lab incident; cut to Katy Gailman making pancakes in the kitchen, Cain staring at her in shock.)

VOICE OVER (LAVENDER QUEENLY-GAILMAN): Your sister has done more than enough damage to this family.

(SCENE: Gailman family dinner with Lavender, William, and Dorothy in attendance.)

LAVENDER: The last thing we need is this relationship of yours getting out.

(Shot of Dorothy looking forlorn, cut to SCENE: Dorothy and Rawlins at the Hilltop Cafe way outside of town.)

DOROTHY: Mom's on to us.

RAWLINS: Just have to stay one step ahead.

(Dorothy grins, BLACKOUT to episode title card: "A Star, A Star")

_Teaser_

The basement light clicked on and a pair of feet clad in red socks padded down the bare wooden steps. Ambrose LeFevre paused at the bottom, took a deep breath of musty air and sighed it back out.

"What did I come down here for," he wondered. With a frown he set out to investigate shelves filled with the most spectacular assembly of junk. "No, no, no," he muttered occasionally, until he was distracted by a couple of boxes whose dust layer was still forming. Both of them were labeled "Christmas," which was baffling since he'd taken all the holiday stuff out right after Thanksgiving.

LeFevre pried open the top box and stared at the contents for a moment before comprehension dawned.

"Someone down here?" a voice called.

Hastily LeFevre closed the cardboard flaps again. "Me!" he shouted back and, mission temporarily forgotten, picked up the box.

Wyatt Cain scowled at him from halfway down the steps. "You waste heat leaving the door open like that. I know it's your house but the bill's half mine."

"Sorry, Dad," LeFevre replied, then held his burden out accusingly. "You guys didn't tell me you had decorations, I'd've gotten you a tree."

Cain stared at the box. "That's... nice of you, but don't-"

"I'm getting you a tree. This is as much your home as mine." With that he slid past Cain on the narrow stairs, box held high over their heads. Cain winced.

"LeFevre-"

"We're off the clock, Wyatt."

"...Ambrose, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, what kind of tree do you expect to get?"

LeFevre grinned down at him from the doorway. "An ugly scrawny one that just needs a little love. Now get up here, you're letting the heat out."

Glaring, Cain stomped up the stairs and hit the light switch.

o

Across town, a phone rang. A clock radio was picked up, set down, a bedside lamp was turned on, and a rumpled Dorothy Gailman picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said, voice heavy with sleep. There was a particular silence on the other end of the line, and she smiled. "Hi."

"Hello," came the soft reply. "Woke you up. Sorry."

"S'okay," she said, even as a yawn betrayed her. "I can konk out again, no big deal." She found herself twirling a bit of her hair around her finger and stopped abruptly with a frustrated sigh. "I wish I could see you tomorrow, or on Christmas, but mom's got me tied up. This'll have to do, unless you thought of something."

"Tenth and Clay." There was another brief pause. "Six o'clock."

Dorothy frowned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "That's right in town, Raw, not exactly the best place for a clandestine get-together."

"It's for a good cause."

After a moment's thought she grinned. "I'll be there."

"With bells on?"

"Just for you."

o

Throughout the city last minute purchases were being made, and outside one retail giant a charity worker was ringing a bell to encourage people to drop a little cash in his pot. He glanced down, checked his watch, and looked up again to find himself being stared at by a young boy of about ten with shaggy dark blond hair. The charity worker frowned and tilted his head, then blinked when the boy mirrored the pose.

"Can I help you?" he asked and let his bell fall silent.

"No," the boy said and shook his head. "I'm fine. Just waiting for my dad."

That was an acceptable answer, so the man nodded and resumed his ringing. "Is he shopping?" The boy nodded. "Getting a present for your mom?"

The boy shook his head. "No."

"Colin!" a new voice called, and a man with long, receding dark hair jogged up to them. He sighed in relief as he approached the boy. "I told you to wait by the other door, away from the street."

"Sorry," Colin muttered with a shrug.

"It's okay," his father said, and glanced quickly at the charity worker before turning away. "Thanks for watching him."

"More like he was watching me," the other man remarked. He frowned when he noticed the boy's father was empty handed. "Didn't have what you were looking for, sir?"

The man gave a thin smile and took his boy by the hand. "Not here, no. Come on, Col."

"Good luck!" the charity worker called as they walked off. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Colin shouted back.

The bell kept ringing, coins and the occasional bill fell into the bucket, and high overhead the stars and a haloed moon shined down on Topeka.

_Act One_

Over the past couple of months Cain had grown accustomed to his landlord's... housemate's... _whatever's_ eccentricities. He learned early on that when LeFevre got an idea in his head he would not let it go. So when he came downstairs the following morning and discovered a live, undecorated tree propped in a stand in the dining room he was not completely surprised.

Then he remembered that it was barely seven in the morning and blinked.

"How the hell-" he began, then snagged the note that was clipped onto one of the branches.

_Brought up the other box for you. I have some things to do early, will see you at the party this afternoon. Merry Christmas!_

_- A_

Cain sighed and shook his head. "Like I have time," he muttered, then replaced the note.

Jeb could do it if he wanted, he'd be then only one home today. Then again he wasn't sure if his son would be up for it either. They both knew the last person to pack the tree decorations, to set them away with loving care, had been Adora. Disturbing her work could be seen as a violation, like they were erasing one more trace of her from their lives. On the other hand leaving the ornaments hidden away would only serve to bury her further.

With a sigh Cain opened the first box, unfurled the cardboard flaps, removed the protective layer of newspaper, and froze at the sight of the star.

It was silver, five pointed like a sheriff's badge, but enclosed within a circle. She'd slipped it into a small plastic baggie to keep it from getting scratched or smudged, and placed it right in the middle on top of the other neatly packed decorations.

Adora's star had always been hers to hang, and always wen on the tree first.

Cain set the paper aside, turned, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Jeb could figure out what to do.

o

"Good morning and a merry Christmas Eve to all of you from KAKE. I'm Airiana Aufdae."

"And I'm Vyktor Sorrel. On our top story this morning, we've heard reports of a pickpocket targetting last minute shoppers at local retail stores. So far the perpetrator has made off with five wallets and a purse. No description of the thief is available at this time, and police are asking for the public's aide in catching this holiday Scrooge."

"In other news, we have a strange report out of Potwin Place. Ralph and Lorraine Blusen say that someone stole a pine tree from their back yard some time in the early morning hours. On their doorstep was a note of apology and forty dollars in cash."

"Huh," Vyktor remarked. "Well, at least they tried."

"Let's see if we can get people more into the Christmas spirit," Airiana cut in with a smile. "Katy, how are we looking for a white Christmas?"

"We're not going to know for sure until later, Airiana," Katy Gailman replied. She stood before a green screen, smiled nice for the camera, and gestured with practiced ease to a graphic she couldn't see but knew was there. "It's a ragged system moving in overnight, we could get anywhere from nothing to upwards of three inches. I'll have the full forecast in just a few minutes."

"Thanks Katy, we'll keep our fingers crossed. Now let's a get a look at traffic with KAKE's eye in the sky, Xora Mobatille..."

o

Sleigh Ride was playing, a classic jangly variation, as a black-gloved hand pointed along a liquor store shelf. The forefinger pointed decisively at a bottle of Canadian Club before it was seized.

o

Judge Marvin Wayzard was known for being odd. "A kook," Tudor frequently called him. This fact was exemplified by His Honor finally deciding to issue a search warrant of a suspected crack den on Christmas Eve, sending Topeka's finest into the breach once more.

The door crashed open and uniformed officers rushed in with weapons drawn, followed by Tudor and Cain. Once the all clear was given Leona Praedlyn came in as well, armed with a flashlight and an equipment bag slung over her shoulder.

"Woo-wee!" she remarked and waved her free hand in front of her nose. "What died in here?"

"Hopefully nothing," Cain informed her and holstered his gun. "Just watch where you step."

Praedlyn glanced down and grimaced. "Ew."

"Don't tell me you have no problem poking around in people's guts but are gonna get bent out of shape over a little dog poo," Tudor said. "House looks empty, I guess they just cleared off with everything but Fido."

The small dog in question, a terrier mix by the look of it, had been cowering under the coffee table but edged forward as Tudor spoke. It now stood between Praedlyn and the detective and barked.

"Oh, scary," Praedlyn drawled. "Let's call animal services on you right now."

With a whimper the dog paced away towards the kitchen, turned back, and barked again.

"I doubt there's food in there for you, pup," Tudor said, which earned him another bark. "What is it, boy? Want us to go with you?"

Cain, who'd been about to head down to check out the basement, paused and glanced back at them. "You're taking directions... from a dog?"

"Just because he ain't K-9 Unit doesn't mean he don't know things. Come on, Leona."

Praedlyn shrugged and followed Tudor, who followed the dog, who lead them into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked up in the sink and they had to walk around broken glass on the floor on their way to the pantry. The dog scratched at the door, whined, looked up at them, and whined again.

"Oh for goodness sake, he really does just want a biscuit," Praedlyn muttered and tried the door. She grunted when it refused to budge. "What-"

Tudor edged in beside her and gave the doorknob a yank, then a harder one, at which point it finally gave up and opened.

A young girl was curled up on the floor. The dog darted in with another whimper and pressed his nose to her face. She remained motionless.

"Aw, hell," Praedlyn sighed and swooped in to check the girl's vitals as Tudor called for paramedics.

_Act 2_  
_  
Sleigh Ride_ was playing, a down tempo jazzy variation, as a black-gloved hand glided over a shelf of bedraggled white poinsettias. The hand settled decisively on one, and then another before both were seized.

o

Dorothy Gailman was snuggled in a fuzzy, dark blue robe with a steaming cup of coffee at her elbow and the _Capital-Journal_ spread out before her. She was paying close attention to the local events section, finger tapping down the list as she checked times and locations.

She stopped on one and her eyes widened. Reading it again, she grinned. "Oh that's good. That's really good."

With a laugh she grabbed her cell phone, flipped it open, hit "3" on the speed dial, and schooled her expression towards seriousness. "Hello, mother?" she said when the line was picked up. "It's me. I'm so sorry, but I've been tapped for a public appearance tonight. Yes, on Christmas Eve, I know! Well, this is why I'm just the assistant DA." She paused and scrunched her nose. "No, mom, it's fine, I don't mind. It's for a good cause. I'll see you tomorrow." Another pause and Dorothy bit her lip. "I will, mom, I promise. Love you."

She disconnected, sighed, then went back to smiling happily.

o

The girl was maybe seven years old, dehydrated, and unsure of how long she'd been left alone. She said her name was Maria Aguilar and that she wanted her parents. Praedlyn wanted them too, preferable skewed on a pike, but after some more questioning from the social worker it was determined that Maria was a kidnapping victim.

Praedlyn hijacked the hospital's wifi with her laptop to access the missing persons database, sighed with relief when she found the girl's case and bit back a curse when she noted Maria had been taken in September.

"Three months now," she murmured and flipped open her cell phone. "Oh honey..." Praedlyn let the thought die as she finished dialing the McPherson sheriff's office and looked back at Maria's smiling face on her screen. "Yes, this is Leona Praedlyn with the Topeka crime lab - thank you, happy holidays to you too, sheriff. I'm calling because we have something of yours."

o

Jeb yawned as he took the stairs down from the attic and past his father's room and the bathroom before stamping down the main staircase. The tree LeFevre had put up weeks ago was tucked within the banister's curve, and Jeb appraised it with some disdain as he edged past it on the way to the kitchen. The thing was gaudy, decked with antique Victorian decorations, and it was his opinion that it looked as though the Christmas spirit had gotten drunk and thrown up all over the poor tree.

Once again his father had "accidentally" left just enough for one cup of coffee in the pot and so Jeb fixed a mug, stuck it in the microwave to reheat, and poured a bowl of cereal. He looked towards the dining room window to check the weather and did a double-take when he noticed the second tree. With a shake of his head he turned to the refrigerator to get milk, whereupon he discovered a note.  
_  
Ambrose got a tree for our decorations, go ahead if you get bored. We should be home by six._

Jeb sighed, crumpled the note, and took his breakfast to the living room where he settled down and turned on the TV.

"Checking the community events calender this Christmas Eve, Holy Name Church on Tenth will be serving Christmas dinner to the needy with help from the Police Benevolence Association-"

He switched to the Travel Channel which was having a marathon of shows about Las Vegas, dug into his cereal, and drank his coffee. Every now and then he'd look towards the dining room where he could just see the bare tree and the boxes stacked beside it, then back to the television. When he was finished he took his bowl and mug back to the kitchen, but instead of returning to the couch he went to the boxes.

Like his father, Jeb froze when he saw the star. Unlike Wyatt he took it out of the box, out of the bag, and traced his finger along the inscription on the outer ring.

Jeb huffed a sigh, set the star aside, and began pulling out the other ornaments.

o

Being the junior partner, Cain traditionally never got to drive. Today, however, he did, but he was nowhere near happy about it.

"It's evidence," he stated flatly.

Tudor spared him a glance, but his attention was focused on the small dog in his lap. "He's a dog."

"A dog taken from a crime scene. When we find these people we can tack on an animal cruelty charge for neglect."

"I think keeping a kid locked in a pantry beats out leaving a mutt to fend for itself for a few days."

There was silence as the detectives thought of the girl they'd last seen being loaded into an ambulance.

"Damn shame," Tudor sighed as he scratched the dog behind the ears. He looked out the window and frowned. "Hey, stop for a minute."

Cain grunted irritably but complied. "What?"

"Gimme a sec," Tudor said, then unbuckled his seat belt, picked up the dog, and held it out for his partner. "Hang onto him for me."

Cain took the dog and gave it a dubious look. The dog looked at Cain and growled. Cain curled his lip right back and turned the expression on Tudor, who was out of the car now. "Where are you going?"

"Pet store!" the other detective replied. "Need a collar and leash for Baxter if we're taking him back to the station." With that he closed the door and hurried into the shop.

Left alone with the dog, Cain frowned and shook his head. "Baxter?"

o

Rows of headstones dotted the drab landscape of Penwell-Gabel Cemetery, bursts of color from flowers left on graves stark in their contrast against brown grass, gray rock, dead leaves, and patches of ice.

A lone figure trudged up a walkway, tan cowboy boots mostly hidden beneath faded black jeans, the tails of a black trench coat stirring in his wake, and dark curls escaped from beneath a green wool-knit cap. One arm clutched two white poinsettias, while the opposite hand grasped a slim bottle in a brown paper bag.

The man stopped before a group of three headstones, the one on his left a shared marker for Jean and Theresa, two on the right for Phillip and Bethany.

All bore the surname LeFevre.

Ambrose's shoulders lifted as he drew a deep breath, and his sigh produced a stream of condensation on the breeze.

_tbc

* * *

_

_**I'll post the other half in a few days! **_

_**- K.S.**  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Twister City - 1x10 "A Star, A Star" (2/2)  
**Author:** Kay Seda  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** The members of the Topeka Police Department celebrate the holidays (in their own way).  
**Disclaimer:** Tin Man and the city of Topeka are not mine.

* * *

_Act 3_

LeFevre had cleared the fallen leaves and dead weeds away from his grandparents' headstone, then set a poinsettia under each of their names.

"Joyeux Noël," he murmured as he knelt beside the grave. "Sorry that it's been a while, but things have been busy. I'm still not married, grandmère." At that he smiled fondly and touched Theresa's name. "But I'm not lonely. A detective from the department has moved in with his son, so there's a teenage boy sulking in the attic again." His hand shifted to Jean's name and he chuckled. "You wouldn't like them, Poppy, too serious for you. But they have reason."

His expression darkened as he looked to the overcast skies, and he swallowed, then lowered his gaze once more and patted the silent dirt.

"Rest easy."

LeFevre got to his feet and finally turned to the other two graves. Both noted the same date of death, February 1984, and both were noticeably overgrown. With his lips pressed tight together he removed the bottle from its packaging, crumpled the bag, and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

"You're still forgiven," he remarked and unscrewed the bottle cap. "Doesn't mean I'm not angry but-" There he paused and brought the bottle to his lips, tipping it back for a decent pull. He grimaced and shook his head. "I have no idea how you drank this stuff, mom."

"Like a fish."

He yelped and spun around, nearly dropping the bottle in the process, then set his free hand over his heart when he identified his cousin. "Leona."

She wore a brown shearling coat with a white scarf draped around her neck and was giving him a dubious look. "Don't do it, Brose."

"What, drink this crap?" he asked and gestured with the bottle as she came closer. "You're probably right, it can't be-"

Praedlyn rolled her eyes and mimed pouring the bottle's contents on the ground. "It's not cool or edgy or symbolic or whatever you think it is, its just bitter and childish." As if to prove her point he pouted, so she held out her hand. "And the cap, please."

LeFevre grumbled but complied, his scowl only deepening when Praedlyn took a pull of the whiskey. "Aren't you on the clock?"

"My boss is off today," she pointed out and screwed the cap back on. "So long as no one mentions it to him I should be fine. Speaking of, it's been an interesting day at work."

"Oh?"

"Meth bust."

He mimed a yawn which quickly morphed into a real one.

Praedlyn snorted. "We found a little girl who'd been kidnapped from McPherson a few months ago."

"Oh!"

"I notified the local authorities, they're coming up with her folks now. She'll be home for Christmas." She tossed the bottle hand to hand a couple times, then sighed. "Can I talk to the media about it?"

LeFevre pursed his lips. "Talk like pillow talk or-"

"On camera," she said. "It's a feel-good story for the holidays and will look good for the department. Rawlins is letting Tudor talk about the dog he got."

"If Rawlins told Tudor he could jump off a cliff, would you ask me if you could go along?" he asked and furrowed his brow. "And _what_ dog?"

Praedlyn rolled her eyes and turned from the graveside. "He's bringing it to the party, you'll see it there. Think you can focus that brain of yours on me and my impending celebrity?"

LeFevre lingered behind briefly, then followed with a solemn nod. When he caught up Praedlyn smiled fondly and linked her arm through his.

"All right," he said. "Think of it as a gift."

"No, this is a gift," she corrected and hoisted the bottle. "Get some vermouth and cherry juice and I'll be in business."

"Ugh. The only thing that goes with vermouth is vodka and a twist."

She laughed and reached up to pull one of his curls, then let it spring back into shape. "Happy Christmas, cousin."

"Joyeux Noël."

o

At the kitchen sink Jeb was trying vigirously to wash pine sap from his hands.

"Stupid tree," he muttered and shot a glare at it. It was now decked with a hodge-podge of ornaments, no theme, nothing really matching anything else. Some went back to when his parents had been children, others, like the penguins purchased during a post-holiday sale last year, had never seen the light of day.

The star remained where he'd deposited it on the sideboard, reflecting light from the strands he'd draped on the tree's branches.

Jeb looked around the kitchen as he dried his hands, then replaced the towel on the hook. He sighed, drummed his fingers on the counter, then with a scowl turned to the pantry and started pulling things out.

"Stupid Christmas."

o

Things were still being set up at Holy Name when Dorothy arrived. Trays of food were being brought out by the hired catering company while packed boxes of non-perishables were being inventoried. Blankets and coats and shoes of all sizes were available for those in need as well.

She found herself on the volunteer roster as working at the donation table, signed herself in, and made her way over. Rawlins was there already, fussing with the latch on the lock box for the cash, and behind him was a uniformed officer labeling boxes for food and clothing donations. Dorothy recognized him as Elmer Gulch, the patrol cop who had busted her for speeding the previous week.

Or at least tried to.

"Lieutenant Rawlins," she greeted formally. He looked up and smiled, and it still sent a thrill through her heart.

"Counsel," he replied with a nod. "Glad you made it."

"I see it as my duty as a civil servant." She made her way around the table, brushing against him innocuously as she took the empty seat. "I'm actually surprised you're here. Isn't the department having a party?"

His hand found hers under the table. "They'll be fine without me. This more important."

Dorothy squeezed his fingers. "On so many levels."

o

Somewhere sleigh bells had to ring. Carols had to be sung. Flurries has to dance on the wind. Evening had to cloak the city.

o

Cain signed the last copy of his report and stuck it in his outbox with a sigh. It had barely settled when Emily Droiden collected it with a smile.

"I'll get this down to processing for you, detective," she told him with her usual sweet smile.

"Thanks, Em," he replied and rubbed his eyes. "Merry Christmas."

Her smile twitched slightly. "Thank you, detective, but we're Jewish."

Cain blinked, then did so again after he glanced at the desk she shared with her husband and noted the manora. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense," he said with a wince. "I've been..."

"No offense taken," she said gently and patted his shoulder when he trailed off. "The first holidays, after, are hard." At his mute nod she continued. "Is your boy coming?"

He shook his head. "He wanted to stay in. Which means I won't be here long, gotta get home and cook dinner."

Emily nodded, murmured encouragement, and went on her way. Cain sighed once more before he got up from his desk and headed for the cafeteria.

He had not expected to run into Santa Claus.

"Sorry," he said and backed away from the collision. The man in the (clearly padded) costume glared back in a familiar way, and Cain leaned in again. "Is that-"

The beard was pulled down to reveal the pale, gaunt face of Igor Raynz. He shook his head contemptuously, readjusted the beard, and put a finger to his lips before he walked away.

Cain gawked after him a moment, then whistled low and continued down the hall. "I am never getting used to this place."

The cafeteria was in a state of mild chaos. Many from the department with small children had brought them in, decorations and food were everywhere, and a stereo was playing holiday music. Cain was overwhelmed as he stood in the doorway, then took a steadying breath and proceeded into the breach.

LeFevre was over by the dessert table, having intense negotiations with Praedlyn about chiffon pie of all things. He recognized several of the beat cops, Christie and Rome, Harris and Walker, keeping their families entertained. Cain nodded to all in acknowledgment as he made his way to get some egg nog, and was relishing the first sip when he heard Tudor calling him over.

He cradled the glass close and wiped his lip with the back of his free hand as he joined his partner, who had his own family in tow.

"My wife Grace," he began, and the woman in question nodded with a smile. "My daughter Aimee, and my son Devin. This is my partner, Wyatt Cain."

Cain shifted the egg nog to his left hand and offered his right to Grace, who accepted with a murmured greeting. Aimee was maybe a couple years younger than Jeb, and Devin was shy of ten and awkwardly holding Baxter, who had acquired a red and green bow stuck on top of his head.

"It's nice to meet you all," he remarked. Tudor had mentioned his family in passing, mostly, so it was nice to put faces to names.

Grace released his hand and gave him a once-over. "Thank you for putting up with my husband," she said, and gave a cursory look around the room. "Is your son here?"

Cain grit his teeth. "He's staying home. Are you keeping the dog?"

"Yes," Devin said firmly.

"Well," Cain said as he leaned down to look more closely at boy and mongrel. Baxter pinned his ears back and whuffed in Cain's direction. "You might want to have him seen by a vet before you take him home."

"I am a vet," Grace put in smoothly.

Cain was about to mumble another apology when suddenly the music cut out. The whole room's attention went to the stereo, which LeFevre (wearing a Santa hat with a sprig of mistletoe perched in the trim) was busy wiring to his iPod.

"Oh no."

"Here it comes."

"LeFevre, swear to God I will shove that thing so far up-"

"Whoa, hey, there are kids around!" LeFevre shouted as he intently hunted for a particular track. He grinned toothily upon finding it and cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, as has become traditional-"

"Because you won't _stop doing it_," Harris snapped.

"...as has become traditional, I give you the annual Christmas sing-a-long!"

There were some groans and a smattering of applause as LeFevre hit play. Tudor caught Cain's panicked look and shook his head.

"It's not that bad," he told his partner, then nodded to LeFevre, who bounced on his toes to the jaunty beat, took a breath, and started singing.

_Haul out the holly,  
Put up the tree before my  
Spirit falls again!_

Cain's jaw dropped, then he quickly drained his egg nog. He'd heard his landlord singing in the shower but had quickly (and happily) tuned it out, but now as part of a captive audience he could only listen with something close to amazement. Even when others joined in (after some cajoling), LeFevre's voice carried bright and clear.

Aimee took Baxter from her brother and swayed to the music and sang along quietly, Praedlyn got roped into singing the girl half of "Baby It's Cold Outside," and everyone got cake and cookies and the warmth of togetherness.

_Act 4_

Katy Gailman's face was illuminated by the radar display on her computer, her expression intent as she checked the statistics from the national service against data collected locally, then sighed as she made notes for the ten o' clock broadcast.

She managed not to jump when her phone rang, instead reaching for it and lifting the receiver before it rang again. "Yes?" she said, eagerness melting into confusion and then hope as she listened to the voice on the line, her left hand went to the small emerald pendant at her throat. "Merry Christmas to you as well, father."

Very quietly, plans were made for the morning. Katy's hand went from the pendant to her brow as she lowered her head and hung up the phone after a whispered _goodbye_. Her shoulders shook with a mixture of laughter and sobs.

o

The hall at Holy Name was bustling with activity. Volunteers helped fill plates with Christmas dinners ranging from turkey and ham to pasta to fish and a wide variety of side dishes. Bags and boxes from the food and clothing banks were distributed as well, and then Igor Raynz in a Santa costume arrived in a police SUV to hand out toys. Things were busy at the donations table as well, Dorothy thanking the generous folks while Rawlins filled out reciepts for tax purposes and Gulch sorted items.

It was late evening when the donors slowed to a trickle, and the ADA and the lieutenant shared a pleased smile as they began tallying everything up. Finally a man and a boy approached the table, the man with receding dark hair and the boy an unruly blond mop.

Dorothy and Rawlins both looked up when the man cleared his throat, she with a frown and he with faint, startled gasp. "Milo," Rawlins said.

The man smiled and nodded. "Merry Christmas, little brother." He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder; his other hand held a brown paper bag. "You remember Colin?" At Rawlins' nod, Milo sighed in relife. "Good, because you're next of kin."

"Lionel?" Dorothy murmured and instinctively leaned back, her right hand instinctively seeking out her cell phone.

"I'm just making a donation, ma'am," Milo said and upended the bag on the table. The contents, seven wallets and a small purse, spilled out. "I think you know of some people who're looking for those."

Rawlins looked at his brother, who looked back at him. DG looked at the boy, who was looking up at his father. Gulch looked at the pile of stolen property and quietly reached for his handcuffs.

As if sensing the motion, Rawlins shot to his feet. "No," he said firmly, then sighed and shook his head. "Outside." Through some silent negotiation it was determined that Dorothy would stay behind with Colin, while Gulch and Rawlins took a cooperative Milo away.

Dorothy rest her elbows on the table, folded her hands, and let out a shaky sigh before smiling softly at Colin. "It's going to be-"

"I knew he'd get in trouble," the boy said with a shrug. "He told me that it's for the best."

She really had nothing to say to that.

o

Cain leaned back against the truck as the GTO pulled up beside it in the driveway, adjusted his hat so it better protected his ears from the cold, and sighed while LeFevre clambered out of the car. The man was still wearing the Santa hat and, apparently, had not stopped singing.

"_-do you see what I see_?" He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and grabbed the bottle of Belvedere vodka Praedlyn had presented him with, then bumped the car's door with his hip so it closed. "_A star, a star, dancing in the night_-"

"No stars out tonight," Cain pointed out as they trudged up the driveway.

Lefevre pursed his lips and looked up thoughtfully. "Hm," he remarked and stuck out his tongue for a moment. "We might get some snow, which would be nice. A white Christmas."

"If you start singing again-"

With a snicker he shook his head, jostling the mistletoe which Cain had been steadfastly ignoring, as had everyone at the party besides Emily, Walker, and, to the amusement of many, Christie. LeFevre tucked the bottle close as he unlocked the front door and shouldered it open. "Happy Christmas, Je-"

He stopped so fast that Cain nearly ran into him, dodging at the last moment with a scowl before he, too, froze and blinked in the direction of the kitchen.

"Did he cook?" LeFevre hissed and kicked the door closed behind him.

Cain swallowed and nodded. "Yeah," he said and continued into the foyer. "He did."

There was a ham steak, not proper ham but good enough in a pinch, and yams from a can Jeb had found at the back of the pantry, and instant mashed potatoes and Caesar salad from a kit in the fridge.

"Best I could do," Jeb mumbled as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

His father nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Lefevre surveyed the table and the tree and nodded appreciatively, then was distracted by something shiny. "Oh!" He picked the star up from the sideboard, turning it in his hand as he read the inscription. _May love brighten you heart with the light of a star_. He grinned and looked up. "You missed one!"

Jeb and his father both stared, numb, as LeFevre carefully chose a place on the tree and hung the star, front and center for all to see. He nodded once, firmly, and looked back to them for approval, but his smile faded at their expressions.

"It's fine, Ambrose," Cain said quickly, and gave Jeb's shoulder another squeeze. "It's all right."

LeFevre's smile came back slowly, and took his seat at the head of the table. Cain followed suit, setting in the chair at the opposite end of the table, and after another moment's hesitation Jeb joined them.

Outside a few flurries meandered in the air, and then a fresh gust of wind carried proper snow.

o

Three figures walked along Tenth Avenue, the child in the middle holding hands withthe man and the woman on either side.

O

"It looks like we'll be getting a white Christmas for the second year in a row throughout the greater Topeka area, with some spots getting upwards of five inches. Tomorrow looks like a good day to spend bundled up by the tree with people you love. I'm Katy Gailman, and I'll be on vacation next week. Happy holidays, everyone, I'll see you in the new year."

_Act 5_

Christmas morning brought broken clouds scudding across a clear blue sky, their shadows casting the snow in shades of silver before the sun returned it to glistening white. Birds picked at sunflower seeds which had been scattered under bushes and along sidewalks.

At the Tudor household, Aimee and Devin came charging downstairs, only to be stopped by their mother who signaled for quiet as they tiptoed to the living room. All three giggled at the sight of Thomas Tudor, veteran detective of the Topeka police force, asleep and snoring on the couch. On his chest, sheltered in the curve of his arm, was an also-snoring Baxter.

o

In the pediatrics ward at St. Francis Hospital, Maria Aguilar was reunited with her parents and older sister. Outside, Leona Praedlyn was being interviewed by Vyktor Sorrel about her role in bringing the family back together.

"Would you call it a miracle?" Sorrel asked with a smile and held his microphone out to her.

Praedlyn covered his hand with hers to help steady the mic, and returned the smile with more warmth than many would think her capable of. "You could if you like," she replied. "I'd prefer to think of it as a happy ending."

o

Wyatt Cain was trying, mostly in vain, to watch the interview on the living room TV. His son sat on his left side while his landlord leaned on the back of the couch at his right shoulder. Both held remote controls for the small, fast cars that were zipping around the house.

"You cut me off!"

"It's a race!"

The red car ran in front of the of the entertianment center, followed closely by the yellow one. Both disappeared into the kitchen briefly, only to reappear for another lap around the coffee table. The red car skidded out of the final turn ("Oh!"), ricochetted off the radiator ("Ha!"), frightened the cat evern more ("Sorry, Pronces."), and just recovered in time to collide with the yellow car as it careened back out of the kitchen again ("Sonuva-" "Language!").

Cain sighed. "Are you done?"

"No," Jeb replied instantly.

LeFevre swatted the back of Cain's head and pointed at the blue car and controller on the empty couch cushion. "I got you one too, Wyatt, come on now."

There was a pause and an exchange of hopeful glances, but in the end Cain folded his arms and settled further into the couch. "Somebody's got to be the balancing force of maturity here."

Two tiny motors revved, and two tiny cars chanrged straight towards Cain's feet.

o

Rawlins was pacing his office and speaking quietly on his cellphone, while Colin played with the paint application on his computer.

"Serena Rawlins," the lieutnant said into the phone. "Serena Carpenter?" He paused and frowned. "No, I... her brother-in-law. Ex." He listened and shook his head. "Yes, thank you. Will try later." He hung up the phone and sighed, then looked at what Colin had created.

It was abstract, browns and oranges and blues and reds, no clear shape but he seemed all right with it. "You won't find my mother," the boy said. "She left a long time ago."

Rawlins nodded. "Will keep trying," he said. "I promise. Until then..."

"It's okay, Uncle Leo," Colin said and looked up at him. "I know you'll take care of me."

o

On the front step of the mayor's mansion, Katy Gailman hesitated on the verge of knocking. She was about to give up and turn away when the door opened, and there stood her father.

"Security camera," he explained in response to her questioning look. "Merry Christmas, princess."

With a sob she threw herself into his arms. "Merry Christmas, daddy."

William Queenly, frequently and derisively called "Omaha" by locals, held his eldest daughter tight and kissed her temple. They had turned to enter the house when the crunch of snow under running feet made them pause.

"Katy?" Dorothy gasped, eyes wide as she looked from her sister to her father and back again. "You... you're-"

"Daddy invited me," Katy said, wiping her eyes.

Dorothy boggled at her father, even as she took his arm as they wlaked into the house. "Does mom know?"

"She does, angel, it's all right," William told her, and indeed his wife, the mayor of all Topeka, Lavender Gailman-Queenly, was waiting at the bottom fo the grand staircase.

After a deep breath for courage Katy approached first. "Hello mother."

Tentatively, Lavender reached out to cup her daughter's cheek. "Azkadellia," she said softly, and smiled as the young woman rolled her eyes at her given name. "I am sorry."

Katy nodded and sniffled. "I'm sorry too."

A moment later they were embracing, soon to be joined by William and Dorothy. It was not perfect, and it was unlikely to last, but for the first time in nearly a decade they were a family at Christmas.

_fade to black_  
_roll credits_


End file.
